


Standards

by hibernate



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Awkward Romance, F/F, Gift Fic, Humor, Poor Life Choices, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibernate/pseuds/hibernate
Summary: How can Addison not find her hilarious when she regularly provides her with the verybestmaterial?
Relationships: Female Ryder | Sara/Foster Addison
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28
Collections: Spectre Requisitions 2020





	Standards

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ApocalypseThen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseThen/gifts).



> Dear Recipient,
> 
> Literally no one in this story has any game, for which I'm truly so very sorry. I'm not sure how well I managed to fulfill your prompt, but I hope there's enough things in here for you to enjoy! :)

So, it turns out that Director Addison doesn't much like her. This isn't the sort of thing Sara minds — to each their own, can't win them all, etc — but there's something about the way Addison doesn't even try to hide her dislike that makes the whole thing sort of... distracting. 

Addison is even meaner while under the influence of alcohol, her voice just a little more raspy, the melody of her words more pronounced. All the better to hurl her comments like little heat-seeking missiles in Sara's direction. 

"What," Sara asks, leaning a little closer, "is your problem with me, Addison?"

"Ryder," she replies, utterly serious, mouth settling into a sneer, "I'd need to make a list."

This isn't what Sara had in mind when she told Cora that she was going to party like it was 2799.

*

The Nexus isn't exactly Heleus Party Place Number One, but it _is_ the only place in the Heleus Cluster with a monthly Dyke Night: an event advertised liberally around the station as dedicated to ' _Female-Identified Individuals of All Species Interested in Other Female-Identified Individuals of All Species (and friends)_'.

So far, Sara has been otherwise occupied during these events, usually knee-deep in Kett trying to kill her, Vaults trying to kill her, exiles trying to kill her (it's turning out to be a recurring theme), not to mention people of all sorts wanting her to solve their problems for them. Pathfinder is really just a fancy word for 'errand girl', Sara is discovering.

It takes a significant amount of persuasion to convince both Vetra and Suvi to come with, and if she has to resort to making them do it out of pity in the end, one must not quibble over details. She has every intention of getting drunk and laid (not necessarily in that order) and so she's going to need wing-women. Besides, everyone else she knows said no before she'd even finished asking.

All of the aforementioned plans go out the window, however, when she walks in to the Vortex, looks around, and spots none other than Foster Addison at the bar. She's dressed in black, dark make-up, looking fancy enough that Sara feels somewhat shabby in her outfit picked specifically because it was the only thing clean in her wardrobe. She's alone, giving off an impenetrable air of 'fuck the fuck off'. 

Obviously Sara is powerless to resist.

She approaches, like a moth to a flame, and all of that angry energy existing like a cloud around Addison gets directed straight towards Sara. It's powerful stuff, enough to put a swagger in anyone's step.

"Director Addison," she says, sliding down on a chair next to her. "Didn't know this was your kind of thing."

Addison studiously puts her drink down on the bar, one disdainful eyebrow rising as she gives her a look so cold it makes Voeld seem pleasantly temperate. "Women?"

"No, having fun."

The noise out of Addison's mouth is distinctly unimpressed, perhaps even a little disgusted, thereby proving Sara's statement absolutely 100% correct. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun," Addison replies, "when the situation calls for it."

The absurdity of that statement is enough to make Sara laugh out loud. "Director Addison, enjoying herself? I'll believe it when I see it."

"Why don't you run along, Ryder?" Addison says. "I'm really not looking for company. Well, not from you, at any rate."

The long-suffering look on her face is absolutely worth putting off all Sara's other plans. "I don't know, It would be pretty irresponsible to let you sit here all alone and drink all this wine by yourself," she says, indicating the half-full bottle on the bar in front of her.

"True Pathfinder heroism."

"True Addison sarcasm."

"Ryder," Addison says with a little sigh, "isn't this a little past your bedtime?"

"Nah, it's not a school night."

"But surely there _must_ be something more useful you could be doing to earn your paycheck?"

"Actually, I think Sloane Kelly will rip my head off if I bug her one more time. Chilling out is a strategic decision."

That gives Addison pause. "I've never sympathized more with her," she says, after a beat, staring into her glass. "You should be careful," she adds belatedly. "Kadara is a lost cause."

"I'm touched. You almost make it sound like you care about my well-being."

"That's pushing it."

And that's when she asks, leaning closer, so close their shoulder bump against each other briefly. She may have already shared a few drinks with Suvi before leaving the Tempest, learning very quickly what a bad idea it is to try to keep pace with Scottish tolerance, and her brain-to-mouth filter isn't even very good when she's stone cold sober. 

"What is your problem with me, Addison?"

Asking is probably a bad idea, but the issue won't stop niggling. How can Addison not find her hilarious when she regularly provides her with the very _best_ material?

"Ryder, I'd need to make a list." — an answer that isn't very enlightening at all, which doesn't mean it does nothing for her. 

"Oh," Sara says, unable to suppress a shiver of — something. "But you have to admit I've been good for you. I mean, for the work you do. We do. The, uh, Pathfinder thing."

"I'd never deny that you're good for PR."

And Addison absolutely would squeeze every last drop of it out of her. That probably shouldn't make her feel so entirely flustered. It probably says something about herself she should address at some point, that she'd rather be a willing recipient of Addison's insults than go out onto the dance floor and grind up against someone with better manners. Then again, what sort of self-respecting lesbian would she be if self-flagellation and pining didn't come easier to her?

Her mother always said that it's a good day when you learn something new about yourself. She probably wasn't referring to realizing it turns you on when your boss calls you useless. 

There's no sign of Vetra or Suvi anywhere, she realizes, taking a quick glance around the place. Presumably, they've gone off to do their taxes together or something of that caliber. That means there's no reason whatsoever not to stay exactly where she is.

"Are you going to buy me a drink or what, Addison?"

Addison rolls her eyes and sighs, exasperated and weary, but more importantly, she gestures for the bartender to bring another glass, filling it up herself from the bottle between them. And some hours later, when the Vortex is winding down she's still there, following Sara outside, a little off-balance, which might be how they end up in a drunken fumble of limbs on the promenade.

In all likelihood, Addison has never thought twice about this before. Sara can't remember when it started to occupy a disturbingly large part of her thought-processes, but probably somewhere between the first time Addison said _fuck_ to her face and the vidcall they shared on Havarl, when Addison was so utterly _awed_ by the ethereal beauty of the planet she must have forgotten to be annoyed at her.

Drunkenly making out with Director Addison is _also_ not what Sara had in mind when she told Cora that she was going to party like it was 2799, but she's always been good at thinking on her feet. It's messy and hurried and drunk, her mouth tasting like wine and lipstick. She's definitely too drunk to do a very good job, but she tries her best anyway and maybe enthusiasm counts for something after all because Addison makes a sound that Sara is at least 65% sure would be classified as a _moan_.

Pushing her away, firmly and decisively, Addison gives her a glare that would make anyone wet. "God, what are you, twenty-two?"

"And three quarters."

"I have standards, Ryder."

Turning on her heel, Addison stalks off. Sara wipes her mouth as she watches her go.

" _Sara_ ," SAM says in her head, " _I have some questions._ "

*

Back on the Tempest, everything is calm. It's empty, save for Peebee, who's making herself a sandwich in the kitchen, and Drack, who's snoring like a rusty engine on the couch.

Did you get laid?" Peebee wonders, raising her voice to reach above the noise.

"No." Sara sighs, briefly distracted by the thought of Addison's mouth. "Apparently people have standards these days."

"Well, if it helps, Cora and I are thinking of starting up a vibrator business. There's like no sex toys in the whole galaxy. Criminal, really."

"Are you making them with RemTech?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, who wouldn't want RemTech between their legs?" 

Peebee beams at her with utmost sincerity. "I know, right?"

*

Addison likes to pretend that Sara never had her tongue in her mouth. Fair enough, that's the sort of thing to be expected from office politics. Every time Sara drops by the Ops deck on the Nexus, she's directed straight to Brecka, do not pass Addison, do not collect 200 angry glares.

She misses the angry glares. And the insults. 

"I'm thinking of taking up poetry," she tells Brecka, loud enough that Addison couldn't possibly miss it.

"That's nice," he says. "I'm going to assume you're telling me this because you're going to write an ode to the sad story I just told you about my dead dog, and not because you weren't listening to me."

From across the room, Addison sends her a look that could best be described as a death glare. It's practically enough to incinerate her on the spot. 

*

One morning, a disturbingly large number of her crew corner her when she steps out of quarters heading for the bathroom, hair falling down in her eyes, robe on outside-in. 

"Look," Vetra says, "I've been trying to be discrete about it, but Peebee found your poetry. At this point, we all know you have a thing for Director Addison."

"Is this an intervention?" Sara asks, feeling very much like the shortest person in the room.

"No," says Cora at the same time as Peebee says, "Yes."

"I don't have a _thing_ for Addison! Do you think I like being called incompetent?" Sara asks, fervently hoping they won't ever realize just how much she apparently does like being called incompetent. 

Peebee shrugs. "We're not here to judge. Much."

Vetra shoots her a stern look full of motherly disapproval. Older siblings are always obnoxious (Sara knows: she is one). "Things were rough before you got here, Ryder. For everyone."

"I was totally fine," Peebee interjects.

"Okay, things were rough for everyone but Peebee. Especially for those who ended up having to take charge. Don't get me wrong, Tann is a jerk and Addison is ineffectual, but they've both been through a less than ideal situation."

"Wait," Sara says, "are you trying to talk me out of this for Addison's sake?"

"She is a marvelous woman," Jaal says seriously, "though perhaps, somewhat... cantankerous."

"I call Best Man!" Liam calls. "Or bridesmaid. Whatever works for you, I'm it."

Sara gives him a thankful smile. "I appreciate your support, Liam. Unlike _everyone else_ in this room, you're a true friend."

"Not true, Ryder," Peebee says, "we're all here for you and your terrible taste in women."

"Look even if I did hypothetically have a thing for Addison — which I _don't_ — it's not like it's ever going to go anywhere. She has standards, you know."

"Of course it's not going to go anywhere," Cora says. "That's why we're worried about you."

"Am I not allowed to hypothetically have an unrequited crush on an unattainable woman twice my age? It's what lesbians do, Cora."

"Don't involve Cora in this, Ryder," Vetra says. "This isn't about her issues."

"Yeah," Cora says, crossing her arms, "I don't even _have_ any issues."

"And this," Peebee says, smiling proudly, "is where our vibrator business comes in."

"If you like older women, Sara," Jaal says, "perhaps you'd like me to introduce you to my mother. She greatly enjoys the company of other women. Romantically and sexually."

"That's... sweet, Jaal. Weird, but definitely sweet."

*

"Ryder," Addison says the next time Sara has swings by the Ops deck for totally and completely valid reasons. "Don't disturb Brecka, he's busy."

"He's drawing a picture of a dinosaur on his screen."

"Precisely. My office."

Addison has already turned to the stairs, walking at a brisk pace, no doubt expecting Sara to follow like a puppy. Which, of course, she does, momentarily confused by the idea that Addison has an actual _office_ when she's only ever known her to stand guard like a Doberman on the Ops deck. Who knew?

There's a small room next Kesh's, one that looks admittedly more like an office than the Ops deck. Addison waits and locks the door after them, which is... suspicious.

"Am I in trouble?" Sara asks jokingly. Then, when met with only a frown, "Shit! I _am_ in trouble."

"This would be so much easier if you weren't so insufferable," Addison mutters, stepping past her and walking up to her desk. Turning, she leans back against it, which Sara takes as an invitation to traipse up into her personal space like she usually does. 

Up close, Addison is clear-eyed and pink-cheeked, looking practically flustered. 

Sara stands up on her toes to make herself taller. "What’s this about? You need me to track down another one of your pregnant exes?"

"Against my better judgment," Addison replies, pausing delicately. "What happened last month. It's proving to be a distraction."

"Good distraction? Bad distraction?"

Addison runs a hand over her face, sighing. "Bad, Ryder. Definitely bad."

"Wait, hang on," Sara gasps, mildly scandalized at the thought popping into her head, "did you bring me in here to seduce me? On your _working hours_."

"You are an incredibly frustrating person," Addison says, which must do _something_ for her, because in the next breath she puts her hands on Sara's shoulders, pulling her in.

Unprepared for manhandling (but always happy to be flexible), Sara is caught off-guard and off-balance. It's better sober, downright electric, or perhaps it's just better because they're in Addison's office and Sara has just learned another brand new thing about herself. Heleus is a learning experience.

"What about your standards?" Sara asks when Addison pulls back.

"They've slipped," Addison replies, lips red and shiny. "Clearly."

"Hey, I _am_ a Pathfinder. You could do worse."

Addison snorts in a way that's definitely too unrefined for a woman with standards. "I suppose theoretically there might be someone worse _somewhere_ in Heleus."

Clearly that idea entices her, because she kisses her again, thoroughly, wetly, commanding her Sara's mouth like she owns it. 

"What can I do to improve my rating?" Sara asks when she gets the chance to take a breath. "Get a good performance review, so to speak."

"I'm not your boss. You want a performance review, go talk to Tann."

"Are we actually going to do this in your office?"

"I've had the shittiest year of my life, Ryder. Everyone I cared for is either dead or... out of my reach. Out of everyone I work with on a daily basis, Kesh and Brecka are the only two people I can _barely_ stand. I may or may not have elaborate fantasies about strangling Tann ten times on a good day."

She takes a breath, leveling Sara with a glare that in no way matches her words. 

"This — _you_ — will solve none of my problems, but anything that'll make me feel better, however infinitesimal, is absolutely fucking worth it."

Sara will never, ever be able to hear her curse again without getting turned on. She might not be able to hear _anyone_ curse again, which could potentially be a problem.

"For the record," she says, "I've been in love with you since you first corrected my grammar."

"I don't want to hear about your feelings. This is sex. I'm not going to marry you."

The way Addison says 'sex' is pure, well, _sex_. Sara pushes her own legs together at the thought. "Too bad, Liam's already called Best Man slash Bridesmaid. It's a done deal."

"Needless to say, you won't mention this to anyone," Addison snaps, crossing her arms. "Though I suppose knowing what a complete meltdown Tann would have if he knew would be worth it alone."

"To be honest with you, I don't think anyone would believe me."

Putting her hands on the buckle of her pants, Addison gives her an uncharacteristically soft look. "Ryder," she says, "get on your knees."

"Yes, ma'am."

In the privacy of her own head, she says, very sternly, _SAM, do not under any circumstance ever mention this to anyone_.


End file.
